


Into the Wastelands

by moosesmittens



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dehumanization, Feral Ford AU, Gen, Imprisonment, Interdimensional adventures!, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6773290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosesmittens/pseuds/moosesmittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been twenty five years since Stanford Pines tumbled into the Portal. He's been alone for a while now, surviving with a singular goal in mind: Destroy Bill Cipher. </p><p>And he'll sacrifice anything for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Currently a drabble but could have more chapters in the future! Especially if there's interest for it. 
> 
> I'm keen to explore Ford's life inside the Portal, drawing inspiration from Tumblr User pinesinthewoods' Feral Ford AU idea.
> 
> To survive on his own for so many years, with enemies all around, Ford would have had to learn how to react fast to threats, even if it meant throwing away his own humanity.

Swaths of swirling sand stretch out before him, laying out an endless crimson trail that blends into the crackling, red sky arcing above. Aches crawl through his shoulders, tugging at muscle and clicking joints. His heavy combat boots make it even harder to trudge through the sand, lugging a sled of equipment like a pack horse.

 

Step. Step. Pull. Ache. Step once more. An endless cycle.

 

But Ford knows there’s no turning back now. His weapon is almost complete, it just needs a final element. An element unique to this dimension with a word so foreign it hurt his throat to pronounce it correctly. But it would be worth it. This burning pain that strikes him with every pull through these wastelands would be worth it. He'll vanquish the eye that seems to follow him with every step he takes.

 

Even out here he didn’t feel safe. He feels more exposed than ever, the back of his neck prickles. 

 

_I’m being watched…._

 

_I must hide these Journals before He finds them…._

 

He tries to shrug off the thoughts. Thoughts from a lifetime ago. The scrawling of a mad man, forever plagued by the All Seeing Eye. The eye that he’ll destroy. Yes. He’ll disintegrate Bill Cipher’s molecules and make it so he never existed… Never to harm another living soul…

 

A sharp wind whips through the desert, sending sand spinning towards him. He pulls his scarf more firmly over his mouth, sand hitting him with the tiniest of needles. 

 

Like he always has, he presses on.

 

A figure… No, two figures, emerge from the cover of the flash sandstorm. Ford squints, his hand instinctively slipping into his coat pocket and keeping a steady hold on his gun. It was not worth firing… Yet.

 

He hears a guttural squawking and his hackles raise, instantly dropping into a combative stance. He calls them Scavengers, even though he’s heard them called countless other things in various tongues.

 

With any luck, they’ll leave him alone.

 

But since when did he have luck on his side?

 

They approach him, uttering a rolling clicking sound, a piece of faded paper crackles in their talons. One opens it’s long hooked beak before snapping it shut, muttering something to it’s companion and looking to him with beady glinting eyes. 

 

He growls, rolling his tongue and uttering deep grunts from the back of his throat that translated into something like:

 

_“Leave. Alone.”_

 

That only makes them chatter more, unfurling the paper in their claws. It’s a picture of a younger version of himself, eyes wide with terror. He’d seen the poster everywhere. The bane of his existence marked by that slitted eye and scrawling runes that could only mean one thing.

 

** _DEAD OR ALIVE._ **

 

** _BRING TO BILL CIPHER._ **

 

He whips out his gun. A beam of plasma bursts out of it, hitting one square in the chest. It goes down with a gurgling squawk. He leaps forward, dodging to the side as a sharp beak jabs towards his eyes. His gun emits a thin _vween_ as it charges up. It's not ready yet. He spins around and kicks up a cloud of sand, blinding the creature for a moment. He seizes the Scavenger’s spindly arms from behind and pushes it down to the ground with a low snarl.

 

“Stay _down_.”

 

The creature hisses, struggling madly. It would never cooperate with him. Ford’s gun bleeps. He lifts it up and pulls the trigger, blasting a searing hole through the back of the creature's head. It releases a final screech, twitching before going limp.

 

There was a time he would have set the weapon to stun before blasting an enemy. But too much was at stake now. He couldn’t risk the creatures coming after him. Couldn't risk anyone knowing his plans to destroy Bill.

 

In a cruel world, he had to adapt.

 

It would show no mercy to him, so why should he show mercy to it?

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have an idea for this! We'll see where it goes! :D

A storm is brewing up ahead, red clouds swirl into a vortex that can only spell blood rain. Ford remembers the first time he was caught out in a blood storm… Needless to say, it took a lot of stolen hydrogen peroxide to clean his clothes.

 

He sighs, pausing his relentless trek to pull the tarp back over his make-shift sled. His gaze sweeps frantically over his prototype weapon, ensuring the sand had not damaged it. 

 

Then, he continues on.

 

He must find a place to set up camp.

 

“Okay, Ford.” He murmurs. “Set up camp… Survive the storm… Continue trek… Find the element… Destroy Bill… No, no. Make the weapon first… Then destroy Bill… I can do this.” He gives a determined nod to no one in particular. 

 

A dip in the sand dunes is the best cover he’ll find out here. He settles for it, checking his equipment, securing the tarp once more and then proceeding to set up his tent. 

 

“It’ll do.” He mutters. It’ll have to do.

 

He pulls out his dehydrated meal, sparing only a few drops of water from his canteen to bring it to a barely edible state. 

 

“Should have gotten the other flavour…” He says before ripping the bread-like parcel in two and shoving one half into his mouth. It’ll just have to do.

 

Heavy, bruised clouds boil above, a metallic tang in the air. Ford lays back in the tent with a sigh, reluctantly letting his eyes close.

 

There’s a noise. 

 

Ford’s eyes snap open, bolting upright as panic seizes his chest and twists it.

 

A low growl erupts from the back of his throat, hackles rising as he leaps out of the tent. He looks left and right, the darkening landscape giving nothing away. 

 

“Show yourself!” He hisses. “Cowards!” His hand slips into his coat to tighten on his gun.

 

There’s a faint whistling noise before burning pain rends across the nape of his neck. He howls, gun clattering from his grip as his knees give from underneath him. Another barb tightens around his wrist and tugs his arm back. 

 

He roars, lashing out madly as some unknown force drags him across the sand. 

 

“Let me GO!” 

 

“Krog lw vwhdgb!” A voice snarls in the Native Tongue.

 

“Grq'w ohw lw hvfdsh!” Another snaps back.

 

He’s dragged into the midst of three hooded creatures, crouched low on four scaled legs. A clawed hand snatches up one of his hands. 

 

He spits and snarls at them, attempting to jerk it away from their grip.

 

“LET ME GO YOU— ARGH!” Ford cries out as one sinks it’s claws into his skin. He whimpers, struggling as they force down his hand and splay out his fingers, observing them closely. Blood mingles with sand.

 

“Vla ilqjhuv.” One of them mutters, paired with the distinct sound of a swish of a tail.

 

“Bhv. Wklv lv wkh rqh Flskhu zdqwv. Wdnh klp.” Comes a clipped response.

 

Ford can barely try to translate the words before they throw a bag over his hand and something tightens around his throat. His chest constricts, his heart pounding in his ears. 

 

“No! NO!”

 

Something clicks around his wrist and he cries out, wrenching his arms back in a panicked jolt.

 

A low hiss sounds right next to his ear before pain sears the back of his throat. His spine goes rigid as he screams. He kicks out, cold terror thrumming through him. The pain stops and he crumples down into the sand, panting heavily.

 

And then he finds himself being dragged through the sand towards an unknown fate.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the kudos and comments! It really motivates me to keeping working on this!
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :D

Stanford’s blind, stumbling through the thick sand as the creatures drag him with them. He hears a four beat footfall. He can’t possibly keep up. He cries out as he stumbles and falls. A snap of teeth sounds next to his ears, as loud as the crack of a whip.

 

His shoulder joints scream as they drag him by his shackled wrists, sand hisses as he’s mercilessly dragged through it. 

 

The sound of activity grows nearer… A clamour of different tongues… A low light beams through the bag around his head but he can only see fleeting shadows….

 

Suddenly, the creatures growl and he’s forced kneel on his knees. The bag is whipped off his head and Ford snarls, wincing at the sudden light in his eyes. His head jerks erratically from side to side, taking in the scene. The first thing he notices is the pink, slender creature lounging on a throne. One eyed, horns jutting from her head. He recognises her instantly.

 

Pyronica. A demoness that embodies fire, well known throughout the dimensions for being one of Bill’s Henchmaniacs. Some even say she’s his favourite. 

 

Ford’s heart drops to his feet. Of all the creatures to pick him up…

 

“Well lookie here!!!” She cries out, surprisingly in his own language. “We bagged ourselves an outlaw!” The demoness leaps to her feet and saunters over to him, pink flames flickering across her body. She towers over him and he bristles, feeling incredibly vulnerable. He bares his teeth in a warning.

 

A sharp pain jolts through him as she seizes his cheeks between her claws, turning his head this way and that. 

 

“A cute outlaw, too!” Pyronica purrs, her sticky tongue flicks out to sample the sweat beading on his forehead. “Never seen a Three Dimensioner like you before!”

 

Heat crawls up Ford’s neck. He growls lowly before lunging forward, snapping his teeth down onto her wrist.

 

She yelps, jumping back and yanking her wrist out of his teeth. “AH! IT’S FERAL!” She squeals, looking over her arm. She narrows her eye, observing him closely. He hisses a warning in an alien tongue not to come any closer.

 

“Bill … Never mentioned anything about it being feral…” She turns to one of the creatures. 

 

“You sure it’s the right one?”

 

“It Six Fingers!” One of them barks, stumbling over the foreign language. A clawed hand seizes Ford’s wrist, dragging it forward to show her his fingers. He hisses and yanks it away, glowering at the hooded creature.

 

Pyronica tilts her head to the side. “Hmmm… Well, I guess it’s more fun this way!” 

 

A chill rushes through him. 

 

The demon grins, baring her teeth as she capers towards him. “I do like a challenge! And it’s just so _cute!_ Oh I could just…! _”_

 

She scoops Ford up into her arms and swings him around. He roars, fighting his shackles to struggle madly in her surprisingly tight grip.

 

“HEY! LET ME GO YOU—!”

 

“Yes you are! You are adorable! You feral little thing!” She coos, running her claws through his tangled hair.

 

He snaps his teeth at her and she chuckles. “Aww no more biting from you, little one! We might have to put a muzzle on you!” Pyronica prods him none too gently on the nose.

 

Her flames dance around him, he flinches away from them but they merely caress him with a gentle warmth. He blinks. They don’t burn him.

 

She seems to notice his confusion and she giggles. “I’m not gonna hurt ya, silly! Bill wants you alive! Duh!” 

 

Bill.

 

Ford feels his throat constrict at the very name, his bloodshot eyes widening. 

 

“NO!” He roars, scrabbling furiously against her to free himself. 

 

“Hey! Settle down!” Pyronica laughs, high pitched and painful against his ears. He winces, a snarl rumbles through him.

 

“Easy… Easy now… Shhh… We’ll take good care of you.” The demoness coos, stroking his hair. Ford bristles, flinching at her touch. The rhythmic touching is… confusing. Every nerve ending fizzles, his brain processing physical contact as something… That wasn’t hurting?

 

He trembles, skin erupting in goosebumps. 

 

“N-No…” He murmurs. “Not Bill…” 

 

Pyronica holds him in her arms the way an empress might hold her prized cat, stroking him softly as she saunters around the room. He’s tense. Unmoving with eyes wide and heart thundering in his chest.  
  
She starts snapping orders in a tongue Ford doesn’t recognise. Any attempt to struggle results in her tightening her grip.

 

He can’t go to Bill… His mind frantically processes the situation.It seems like they didn’t find his weapon. Which means it’s out in the Wastelands somewhere… If needs to… get out of here… find the weapon…

 

He looks tentatively up at Bill’s favourite Henchmaniac. She notices his glance and grins down at him. 

 

It looks positively predatory.

 

He has to get out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg I love writing Pyronica so much! :3c


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Sort of hit a road block with what follows on from this so I decided to post what I have and fiddle around with the the other stuff in the next chapter :')
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Again your feedback is always appreciated <3

Ford slowly begins to realise he’s been taken to some sort of cathedral. Beams arch overhead, supporting a pointed roof. Lavish red material drapes across the walls, appearing to be made of fine silks. The mark of the triangle is etched into the wall above Pyronica’s throne, which seems to be situated upon a sort of alter. 

He knew there was worship for Bill in this dimension, but this was ridiculous!

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on this, however. 

“Now, you’re going to stay right here with me, you little beast!” Pyronica purrs in his ear as she tucks him under her arm. “Bill’s going to be _super_ excited to see you! It’s going to be a _big big_ surprise! You’re going to love it!” She giggles

Ford’s arms and legs dangling uselessly as she parades him around the room to all the other creatures. He grunts, wheezing. She’s not holding him right! She’s going to break his goddamn ribs! 

She’s blatantly ignoring his discomfort, giving him an absentminded little strokes and ruffling his hair as she speaks in a foreign tongue to the creatures gathered in the hall to wait out the storm.

It isn’t long before Ford decides he’s had enough of being paraded around like a lap dog. A low growl rises up his throat, rumbling through his body.

His teeth snap down hard onto Pyronica’s hand. A primitive snarl erupts from him as he shakes his head from side to side like a dog. He feels his teeth sink into her abnormally warm flesh. It tastes like ash.

Pyronica _squeals._ Her fist slams into the side of his head and the world flashes black. But he holds on, tasting something sweet and metallic all at once.

The cacophony of sound that follows is drowned by the ringing in his ears. He feels blow after blow before pain hisses against his tongue, burning and numbing at once. Pink flames flare around him and he howls, his jaw loosens and he lets go of her before his tongue gets completely cooked. Clawed hands seize him and drag him off.

Pyronica’s single eye is narrowed to a slit. Her flames darken, flaring up and wreathing her. She truly looks like embodiment of fire now. She jabs a claw at him and spits something Ford can’t understand. Then he feels something cold click around his face. Steel bands tighten around his jaw, fixing around his head. 

_No._

Ford bucks madly in his captors grip, clawing at his face. He can hear panicked wheezing and realises that’s all he can utter.

“Sxw lw zlwk wkh rwkhu iuhdn!” A gutteral voice mutters in his ear.

Ford feels a sharp sting on the back of his neck. He sees a flash of steel in a clawed hand, a hypodermic syringe of some sort, and his whole body gives way underneath him.

“No…” He slurs, his head slumping. 

“Oh yes, little pet.” Pyronica purrs, stepping in front of him and lifting his head with her claws. He cries out, her hands burning his skin. She holds him still. Anger burns in her eyes, unrelenting as the flames that surround her. “Bill wants you alive, so we can’t have you hurting yourself, can we?.” She giggles, her flames returning to a bright pink as she scruffs his matted hair. 

Ford bares his teeth, bristling with fury and hatred. He can smell burning flesh. _Cooking meat._ Tears slide down his face. She promptly drops his head. He can do nothing but hang limp as he’s dragged out of the cathedral. He can’t see anything but the black sheen along the ground.

Thump.

They’re dragging him down stairs now.

Thump. Thump.

His knees scrape against the ground, cutting deep wounds into his skin.

There’s a shriek of metal grating across the ground. The creatures utter a grunt and dump him on the ground, taking off his cuffs. They hiss something before something slams shut.

He lays there, waiting for the poison in his system to dissipate. He drifts off, exhaustion dragging him down as he falls into fitful unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Sort of lost a bit of inspiration for this one but I hope you enjoy it! Hoping to get more ideas when I get my copy of Journal 3!

Everything is too loud, too quiet, too cold and too warm all at once. Ford opens his eyes to find himself still slumped on the ground like an abandoned rag doll. He groans, twitching his fingers to find that movement had been restored to him.  

But the relief is short-lived.

There’s a sharp clicking sound and the unmistakeable noise of something very much alive shuffling across the floor _._

Ford bolts to his hands and knees, snarling. The world spins for a moment and his stomach churns. His hackles prickle the back of his neck.

A shuffling noise, claws scraping against concrete. A shadowed mass moves at the far corner of the cell.

“Show yourself!” Ford croaks, crouching against the ground. 

The mass seems to hesitate for a moment before strutting forward into the light. 

The first thing he notices was the feathers. Feathers are rare in this dimension. The plumage is a dull brown, much like a common pigeon. She looks at him with deep brown eyes. Everything about her face is human saved for the curved beak. 

“Harpy.” He murmurs, confirming to himself. He feels a curiosity push against his wariness. A fascination he hadn’t felt in years. Fear prickles at the back of his mind, warning him not to get too close.

“Who are you?” She calls out in a voice, juvenile and unmistakably feminine. She takes another step.

Relief and wariness floods through him all at once. She speaks his language! He refuses to let down his guard though. The creature’s beak could impale him for sure. But her jet black hair is wild and frizzy. A stark contrast to her smooth brown feathers.

The harpy’s talons click against the concrete as she advances. She stretches her wings and puffs her chest out. She looks about as threatening as a feathered boulder.

She stops her advance, her wide brown eyes blinking. “You… You’re a human!” She exclaims, tucking her wings hastily.  

“Oh boy, I haven’t seen one of your kind in ages!” She waddles towards him, the sound of a chain clinking. Ford’s gaze darts down for a moment. She had a shackle fixed around her leg. A prisoner just like him.

“Pleased to meet you!” The harpy chirps, hopping forward with the grace of a finch.

 She’s too close.

Ford recoils, snapping his teeth at her and leaning his weight heavily on his haunches. He snarls a warning. She may be interesting but it doesn’t mean he’s going to let her get too close.

“S-stay!” Ford manages to say, his heart thundering in his chest. 

The harpy pauses, tilting her head to the side. “Oh… I see.” She says, flapping her wings and fluttering back a few paces.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” She balances on one foot and holds out a talon to him. He flinches a little, his hair on end. He crawls slowly forward, scenting the air for any trap or trick. He cranes his head and stretches forward, jerking back before building the confidence to try again.

The harpy is patient, balancing herself and averting her gaze. She clearly means no harm. 

He sniffs her a little, moving closer to tentatively touch her scaly talons, not unlike a bird of prey’s claw.  

Touch and scent seems to affirm to him what is real and what isn’t when he feels like his eyes and ears deceive him.

“I’ve… never seen one like you before.” He mutters, moving away so she could regain her balance. 

She fluffs her feathers, a cloud of dust puffing from them. “I haven’t seen any like me in a long time…” She says, sadness flashes across her eyes.

“What are you even doing in a place like this?” Ford asks, gaining enough confidence to shuffle closer and cross his legs in front of her.

“I could ask the same thing of you, Stranger.”She settles down against the cold floor, the shackle around her leg clinks. She fluffs her feathers and tucks her claws beneath her belly, looking at him attentively.

 

Ford sighs, allowing some tension out of his body. She’s a prisoner as much as he is. For once, he doesn’t feel quite so alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned a drawing of this Harpy OC if you guys are interested!
> 
> http://strawberryoverlordart.tumblr.com/post/147798417634/commission-for-mooseings-of-her-harpy-charcater


End file.
